"Where is she?" he muttered, already moving forward.
Maleficent. She would know what was happening. And if the Moors were under threat, he would be ready to fight.
Maximilian exhaled slowly. The battles he had fought in the past had shaped him, but this was different. This was his home, and it was under threat. He had returned not just to reclaim his place, but to protect what was his.
He took another step forward, the very magic of the land bending toward him, recognizing him as its own.
The storm was gathering.
And he was ready.
The castle loomed ahead, its towering spires casting long shadows under the twilight sky. The air was thick with tension, whispers of fear slithering through the corridors like unseen specters. Maximilian could feel it, the weight of something unnatural—something powerful—lingering in the air.
He moved swiftly through the outskirts of the kingdom, his wings tucked close to his body as he avoided the eyes of patrolling guards. He didn't need to be seen, not yet. His goal was clear: find Maleficent.
Then, he heard it.
The hushed gasps of nobles, the muffled sobs of servants, and the echoes of a voice that sent a shiver through his bones.
"Before the sun sets on her sixteenth birthday, she shall prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel... and die."
He stopped.
Stepping into the great hall, he saw her—Maleficent, standing tall in the center of the court, her dark robes flowing around her like shadows brought to life. The light from the torches flickered, casting eerie patterns across the stone floor. The King and Queen trembled before her, powerless, their fear palpable.
She was magnificent. Unstoppable. A force of nature unlike any other.
Maximilian's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. He had returned just in time to witness history—the very moment that would shape the fate of the kingdom.
His voice was low, but firm. "Maleficent."
She turned, her piercing green eyes locking onto his. A flicker of something unreadable passed across her face—surprise, confusion, perhaps even mild intrigue. Her gaze swept over him, lingering on the strange wings folded at his back, the energy crackling just beneath his skin. There was something about him that didn't belong—an anomaly in her carefully woven plans. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice carrying no fear, only curiosity laced with a quiet, commanding authority, as if daring him to prove his worth for interrupting her moment of triumph.
The entire court was deathly silent. The nobles had pressed themselves against the cold stone walls, their terrified gazes darting between the dark fairy and this unknown intruder. Even the guards seemed frozen in place, unwilling to risk drawing Maleficent's wrath.
Maximilian did not lower his gaze. "Someone who sees beyond this moment. Beyond curses and kingdoms. I know what's coming, Maleficent. And what you've just set into motion."
Maleficent arched a brow, tilting her head. "Have I done something you disapprove of?" Her tone was almost playful, but there was a sharp edge beneath it, a warning not to overstep.
Maximilian's gaze flickered to the King and Queen, their faces pale with horror. "You've cursed their child. Do you truly mean for her to die?"
A long silence followed, but Maleficent only smiled. "No," she finally said, lifting her staff once more. "Not death... but sleep."
She spoke the final words of her spell, weaving an enchantment that would ensure the princess could only be awakened by true love's kiss. The magic swirled around her, settling like a heavy mist over the room. The court remained frozen, too afraid to speak, too stunned to act.
Maximilian studied her, his sharp golden eyes taking in every detail. She was powerful, that much was undeniable. But there was something else—something deeper beneath her exterior. A wound not yet healed. He exhaled slowly before nodding. "Then it's done."
Maleficent turned fully to face him, her smirk fading slightly. "Why are you here?"
His wings flared slightly, the air around him crackling with newfound energy. "Because I heard of the Gaudian who protected the lands of the moore with her beautiful wings."
For the first time, uncertainty flickered across Maleficent's face. Her fingers tightened around her staff as she studied him, measuring his words. She did not yet trust him, but she did not dismiss him either.
"You speak of me," she mused, stepping closer. "Yet you carry yourself like an outsider. You do not belong to this kingdom. You do not belong to me. So tell me, winged stranger—where do you belong?"
Maximilian smirked. "I suppose that depends. Are you ready to listen?"
The torches flickered as a gust of wind swept through the hall, carrying with it the weight of something unseen—something ancient stirring around the people.
The storm was gathering.
And something was on the horizon.